328 at the face of Bunk Trevelyan's wife that first day. He looked at the faces of the soldiers; but the faces told him nothing, One day on the street, he met the young lieutenant who had been in charge of the cavalry detail the night his house burned. The lieutenant recognized him, and nodded friend- lily. And once Mr. Munn had occasion to go down Front Street, where the warehouses had been. He saw the blackened ruins, the workmen, the guards, and the men leaning against the barrier. That night of the raid, at the moment of the first blast, when the air had reeled, sodden and swollen with sound, he had felt a release, a certainty. That was of that time, not this. Now, in the light of full afternoon, he watched the picks of the workmen rise and fall, and the indifferent guards. "The warehouses," Doctor MacDonald said, "that don't mean a thing. We want warehouses, don't we? Don't we want somebody to buy 'our tobacco?" Then he grinned. " It's what goes in them counts. And "—pausing—" what gets paid for what goes in them. I don't see why the warehouses make people downhearted. Or I do see—they're blind as bats." " I'm not downhearted," Mr. Munn told him, " but people are. You can tell." " All we need is to keep up membership of the Association. And in the other. Give them meetings, get 'em together and give 'em something to do, something to think about, nurse 'em along. That's all we need. Keep that up-----" "And money," Mr. Munn said gloomily. "There isn't any more advance money, and we haven't got our price yet, the companies feeling so cocky with their soldiers here, and people need money." "Money," Doctor MacDonald replied. "Sure. But just enough money to eat. Just that. In a pinch just that, and this is a pinch. A man don't need much in a pinch. It'll surprise you, by God. I lived once, six weeks it was, on just a handful of parched corn a day and a jack rabbit or a prairie chicken when I could get one, and me on the move, too.